


Never Better

by avoidingavoidance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, they fuck in the black lion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 19:59:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidingavoidance/pseuds/avoidingavoidance
Summary: After a hard battle, Lance comes to comfort Shiro, and both of them end up being more honest with each other than they'd intended.





	Never Better

**Author's Note:**

> yes it's another fuck buddies to lovers shance fic, i know what i'm about

It took a few cautiously optimistic years, but Shiro has finally given up all hope that this gets any easier.

No matter how well he knows his lion, knows his team, every time they face down another of the Galra druids’ unholy experiments, every time Shiro has to think back, has to try and remember clearly how to fight whatever creature they boiled down and blew apart to make a new monster, he finds himself terrified, short of breath, and desperate to just go home.

They’re victorious again this time, as they somehow always are, but when Shiro’s lion sits heavily in her hangar and powers down, he can’t bring himself to get up just yet.

It had been bad today, and thanks to the link that lets the other paladins see inside of him when they’re Voltron, everyone knew it. Shiro had started out wrong and just couldn’t regain his balance, even with how strong his legs are.

As if on cue, a soft ping startles him out of his head. He blinks up at the image that comes up over his dash, the light crisp and bright, piercing through the darkness. Lance is silently looking him over, his face sad and knowing, and Shiro has to resist the urge to hang up the call and go find somewhere to hide. 

He doubts he could ever bring himself to turn down Lance’s company, anyway.

Instead, he just stares right back at Lance through the private call, knowing that he looks like a mess, that his hair is on end from running his hands through it. He doesn’t need to say anything; Lance can read him like a book, even on this fuzzy screen.

“Stay there,” Lance says finally, before standing up and closing the line.

Shiro isn’t left sitting in the dark for long. The door behind him opens, and Lance strides right over and stands in front of him, his gloved hands coming to rest on Shiro’s face.

Lance has barely touched him, but Shiro already feels himself melting for him.

He reaches up and holds one of Lance’s hands in his, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses his lips to the palm of his glove.

Breathing a soft sound, Lance invites himself into Shiro’s space, straddling him in his chair and nudging his face up until he can catch his lips in a soft, sweet kiss, gently running his fingers through Shiro’s mussed hair. Shiro groans at his warmth, his proximity, and wraps his arms around Lance’s narrow waist, pulling him against himself and licking between Lance’s lips. 

Lance hums and easily lets him in, tilting his head and leaning into him, his hand on the back of Shiro’s neck guiding him closer, encouraging and soothing him. 

Shiro could be happy like this, happy with Lance’s weight on his lap, with his taste on his lips, but their victory today came at the cost of Shiro flaying himself open and being left unbearably vulnerable, and he’s normally not the pushy one of the two of them, but right now he needs _more._

He shifts his hands to the catches of Lance’s armor, fumbling to release the hard plates so he can toss them on the floor and forget about them. Lance chuckles warmly, but he lets Shiro strip him down to his undersuit, still curling their tongues together lazily until he needs to stand to help with a particularly stubborn piece. He goes to sit back in Shiro’s lap, but pauses, looking him over thoughtfully before reaching up and unfastening his undersuit too.

As he peels the tight material off his body, shimmying it down over his hips, down his thighs, leaving himself wonderfully naked, Shiro watches breathlessly, his impatient hands itching to pull Lance back against himself. 

Lance gives him a pointed look, though, his hands on his hips, so Shiro shakes himself out of it and stands to divest himself of his own armor, tossing it aside even more carelessly than he had Lance’s. He pulls his undersuit down just enough to free his half-hard cock, then sits back down and reaches for Lance again.

With a wide, easy smile, Lance lets himself be pulled back into his previous position, humming at the warmth of their now-bare chests pressing together, at how desperately Shiro leans up to catch his lips again. He reaches between them and wraps his narrow fingers around his and Shiro’s cocks, adjusting them so they’re pressed together just right, so he can lazily stroke them both.

He pulls back just a hair, just enough to breathe, “What d’you want, big guy?”

Shiro blinks up at him, licking his lips, clinging to the taste of Lance’s kisses. “You,” he rasps after a long moment, “Just want you.” He spreads his hands over Lance’s hips, runs his palms up his scarred back, across his broad shoulders, marveling at how good it feels to have his hands on Lance’s soft skin.

Lance smiles at him and playfully nibbles his bottom lip, but much to Shiro’s dismay, he stands up again and turns to the haphazard pile of Shiro’s armor. He rummages in one of the hidden inner pockets until he pulls out a small, mostly-empty bottle of lube with a triumphant sound.

Unable to stand even this distance between them, Shiro reaches up and pulls Lance back into his arms, his back to Shiro’s chest now. He can’t reach him easily to kiss him this way, but he knows damn well how much Lance likes the way Shiro’s cock feels inside him from this angle, and right now Shiro wants _so badly_ to pull all kinds of sweet noises from his thin, flushed lips.

Sighing contently, Lance leans against him and drapes his thighs over Shiro’s lap, easily spreading himself open for his lover. When Shiro breathes a rumbling groan against the crook of his shoulder, Lance smiles widely, practically radiating smugness. He’s always been so damn proud of how effortlessly he gets under Shiro’s skin, how tightly wound around his finger he has him, and Shiro’s too enamored with him to give any shits about how whipped he is.

Maybe too enamored, but they haven’t talked about that.

Hell, they haven’t even really talked about _this,_ about how well they know each other inside and out, but it’s been going on for months and at this point Shiro’s terrified that if he admits how he feels, this will stop.

Lance hums and reaches down to wrap a hand around his own arousal, successfully pulling Shiro back out of his head. He gives himself a long, slow stroke, sighing and melting in Shiro’s lap, and Shiro starts feeling that impatience buzzing under his skin again.

He reaches down and pulls the bottle out of Lance’s other hand, hastily slicking a few fingers on his left hand as he sucks hot, wet kisses up the side of Lance’s neck, unconcerned for the lingering salt of his sweat from the battle. Lance purrs for him, reaching up and resting his hand against the back of Shiro’s head as he tilts his head aside for him, offering him more of his dark skin. 

Shiro shifts his own thighs apart to spread Lance wider, groaning at how easily Lance bends for him, and as he wraps his arm around his thin waist and holds him close, he reaches down between those strong thighs and presses his slick fingers against Lance’s entrance.

They do this often enough that Lance takes his fingers easily, sighing and squirming in Shiro’s lap as he buries two fingers inside him up to the knuckle, curling them and spreading them as best he can at this angle. Shiro’s still impatient, still desperate for Lance’s affection, but he can’t help the urge he feels to be sweet to him, to take him apart slow and steady as he works him open for his cock. 

He eases a third finger inside him, earning himself a low moan of his name, Lance’s head falling back against his shoulder as he exhales shakily and arches his hips down for more. Lance pulls his hand off his cock and rests it instead on the arm around his waist, his fingers idly tracing the metal seams running along his forearm. Shiro gathers him closer and buries his fingers deep, breathing a low, shivering groan against Lance’s pulse. 

“C’mon, Shiro,” Lance murmurs, turning his head so he can nuzzle against Shiro’s temple, his hand wrapping encouragingly around the back of Shiro’s neck. “I’m fine, I’ve got you...”

Shiro’s breath hitches at that, his teeth finding purchase in Lance’s warm skin. He doesn’t bite hard, though, just enough to ground himself before he slips his fingers out of Lance’s heat. He slides his arm under Lance’s thigh and lifts him up, pride burning through him at the way Lance moans shakily, weak as always to Shiro’s strength. Reaching down awkwardly, Shiro smears the rest of the lube on his hand over his own cock, not bothering to waste much time touching himself when he could be doing something much better.

Lance reaches down and helpfully steadies Shiro’s cock for him, so when Shiro lowers him back down, he slides right into Lance’s tight, wet heat, his eyes squeezing shut at the overwhelming feeling.

He wants to take this slowly, to ease Lance into it, but Lance hums raggedly, then rocks his hips down against Shiro’s grip, pressing himself into Shiro’s lap with a breathy moan. Shiro groans his name breathlessly, doing his best to stay still. He keeps one arm wrapped around Lance’s waist while the other comes to rest on his bony hip, squeezing tight to ground them both.

“Fuck, Shiro, you feel so good,” Lance whispers, his voice rough and shaky and so, so aroused. 

Shiro could live on that sound alone, he thinks, if not for how gorgeous Lance’s laugh is. Sometimes he thinks they were made to dance around each other, but he buries that thought deep enough that no one can touch it, far even from his own grasp. 

When Lance starts shifting in his lap, breathing quiet little moans at the way Shiro spreads him open, fills him up, Shiro nuzzles behind his ear, then flexes his thighs and rocks up into Lance’s impatient, unsteady rhythm. Lance arches and hums, his short nails scratching lightly though the shaved hair at the nape of Shiro’s neck.

Unable to resist him any longer, Shiro exhales roughly, then starts moving his hips.

At this angle, they don’t have much room to move. He’s buried deep inside Lance, though, grinding himself deeper in long, even circles, and he knows Lance well enough to know that the way he’s dragging the thick curve of his cock along his sweet spot is enough to leave Lance breathless. Lance is shivering for him, his lips parted around humid sighs, soft, sweet moans, and the way he’s squeezing him and rocking back into his slow rhythm has Shiro helpless for him.

Desperate for more, Shiro loops his arm back under Lance’s thigh so he can hold him up a little and move more. He thrusts up into him slow and steady, burying himself deep every time, doing his best to keep his head on his shoulders around how _good_ Lance feels like this.

“ _God,_ baby, just like that,” Lance gasps, his head falling back against Shiro’s shoulder again. He’s so hard, his cock flushed dark and dripping, standing tall against his stomach, but Lance doesn’t move to touch himself. He just clings to Shiro and moans for him, his pretty eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowed in pleasure.

Shiro breathes a low, raspy groan against Lance’s ear, then another when Lance squeezes tight around him and whimpers at the sound. He whispers Lance’s name and drags his teeth along the long arch of his neck, brainlessly sucking and biting dark marks into his skin, too turned on and needy to think twice about how high up those marks are, enough that even the high neck of their suits won’t fully cover them.

Lance arches against him at a particularly firm thrust, gasping when Shiro grinds into him and uses his grip to pull him down onto his cock, and as Shiro starts moving again, bucking up harder, Lance fists his hand in Shiro’s short hair and tugs gently. “Shiro, Shiro, more, c’mon, _please_?”

The sound Shiro makes is closer to a growl than anything else, but it has Lance tensing around him again, rocking messily into his rhythm. Lance knows he doesn’t have to beg for anything from Shiro, but he still does, just for the way it wipes Shiro’s brain clean and leaves him desperate to oblige.

Shiro stands up then, easily using his strength to carry Lance forward until he can bend him over the dash of his lion. He pauses just long enough to make sure Lance’s legs are as steady as they can be under him, then braces his hands on either side of him, leaning down to mouth hot and wet along the nape of Lance’s neck.

When he starts moving again, he has room to pull back farther, and the _sound_ Lance makes when he bucks into him breaks what bare grip Shiro has on his control.

He presses his chest against Lance’s back as he fucks into him, unable to keep himself from putting his mouth on Lance. If he can’t kiss him like this, he can at least taste him, desperate to be close to him. Lance melts against Black’s dash and rests his cheek against the smooth surface, lips parted around sweet, breathless noises. 

Shiro moans his name and rests a hand on one of Lance’s hips, pinning him in place so he can fuck him harder. The restraint just drives Lance crazier, his voice loud around them, shaking and echoing through the dark cockpit. He drags his nails down the dash, but there’s nothing there for him to hold onto, so he flails a hand behind himself and grips the side of Shiro’s hip, squeezing encouragingly as he cries out for him. He’s relying more on Shiro’s cock and the dash to keep him up than his quaking thighs, pressing his knees together to keep from collapsing. 

The shift has him _so_ tight around Shiro, and when he kisses a winded whine against Lance’s pulse at the feeling, Lance laughs breathlessly, then squeezes his thighs hard together just to remind them both who’s in charge here.

It blows Shiro’s mind, leaving him brainlessly pounding into that exquisite heat, barely even hearing the needy sounds he’s making. Besides, the wavering cries of his name his pace earns him are so much more important, filling him with the urge to do more, to treat Lance better, to fuck him until he’s sobbing for him.

Shiro wraps his arm around Lance’s hips again so he can pull him back into every thrust, encouraged by the slick, wet sounds of his cock slamming into him. He adjusts his angle and speeds up, and once he’s hitting him right, Lance _wails_ for him, his short nails scrabbling against Shiro’s side, against the glass holding him up, every part of him shaking to pieces.

“Like that, likethatlikethat _please Shiro fuck_ —” Lance pleads, arching into him, trembling for him, so beautiful, so perfect that all Shiro can do is obey him. He’s so close, taken apart by how Lance feels around him, but he knows Lance is closer, and he wants nothing more than to hear him scream his name as he comes on his cock.

Even though he doesn’t need it to come, Shiro reaches down and wraps his hand around Lance’s soaked cock, stroking him tight and fast, twisting his wrist around the head, because the way Lance’s entire body tenses up, the way his breath catches and stutters makes Shiro’s head spin.

When Lance comes, he cries Shiro’s name over and over, gasping broken praise and pleas as Shiro fucks him through it. The sound and the feeling have Shiro reeling, his teeth finding Lance’s shoulder again to keep him afloat when he lets go for him.

Shiro manages to keep moving for a few more thrusts, fucking his come into him before the feeling becomes too much, before even pulling back starts to feel like he’s too far from him. He buries himself deep and whines Lance’s name, his eyes shut tight against the fireworks blowing across his brain. He knows he’s probably holding Lance too tightly, but he’s desperate for his closeness, for the way their skin slides together, for the sweet, humid moans Lance has for him.

As he comes down, Shiro drags wet, lazy kisses along Lance’s shoulder, wrapping both of his arms around his waist and covering him with his body, caging him in and keeping him safe against him. Lance purrs at the feeling, his flushed cheek resting against the dash, his breath fogging out against the dark, glassy display.

Lance lets him stay like this for a while, until he gets his wobbly legs under him again, but when he starts shifting and Shiro doesn’t let him go, Lance just chuckles and reaches back to play with his hair again.

He knows he should probably stand up, let them get cleaned up, but every part of Shiro is screaming to hold onto Lance just a little longer.

“Hey, big guy,” Lance hums after a long moment, his voice rough from crying out for him. “You okay back there?”

Shiro nods against him, spreading his fingers across Lance’s flat stomach. He’s still brainless, still under Lance’s spell, so he doesn’t think anything of it when he’s a little too honest.

“Always am with you,” he rumbles. “Make me so happy.” He’s nuzzling into the crook of Lance’s shoulder, so when he tenses under him, Shiro’s all too aware of it, then all too aware of how that sounded.

Shit.

He’s scrambling for something to say, for a way to change the subject, his lips pressed tight together when Lance squirms under him, then whispers, “Hey, Shiro, let me up?”

Shiro’s never wanted to throw himself out an airlock more. 

He nods stiffly, and he can’t even bring himself to leave a parting kiss on Lance’s warm skin when he straightens up and pulls out of him. Even the slow drip of his come isn’t enough to distract him from how terrified he is. 

Lance stands up, still shaking, then turns to look up at him, and before Shiro can apologize, can flee from this, Lance reaches up and pulls him down to his lips.

He kisses him so soft and sweet, so tenderly it has Shiro’s brain sparking out, his eyes widening slightly. Lance is pressed all against him, wrapping his arms around his neck and keeping him close. He sucks Shiro’s lower lip between his, then pulls away and looks up at him, giving him a wide, crooked smile. “I really hope I’m not fucking this up, but...” He pauses to bite his own lip, adorably shy.

When he speaks again, it takes Shiro’s brain a long second to process what he said, because he’s almost entirely convinced that he’s hallucinating again.

“I, um. I love you, Shiro.”

Lance is still biting his lip nervously as Shiro just gapes at him. He manages to get it together, though, and wraps his arms around Lance so he can crush him against his chest, holding him tight and burying his face in his hair. 

He starts dragging kisses through his hair, down across his cheeks, whispering broken, relieved ‘I love you’s between them, pouring all the pent-up emotion he’s been badly pushing down for years into them. He can’t even bring himself to care that he’s tearing up, because Lance is laughing against him, still holding onto him and leaning happily into those kisses. 

Shiro sits back down and pulls Lance back into his lap, and he doesn’t let him go for a good long while after that, but if Lance’s wide, watery grin is any indication, he doesn’t mind the affection.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [tumblr](http://avoidingavoidance.tumblr.com) and a [twittr](http://twitter.com/gaarbage)


End file.
